


Only You

by p0rth0s



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s07e01, Post-Season/Series 07, Sharing a Bed, quelle surprise am i right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 07:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17914088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p0rth0s/pseuds/p0rth0s
Summary: Idling through space in their self-imposed night, the Black Lion is almost silent and almost still, but Keith can feel the hum of it in his bones, like breathing. Like his pulse.Louder is the breathing across the narrow quarters in the Lion’s belly. The occasional sniff, the occasional cough, and the all too frequent sound of Shiro shifting and turning on the thin cot that’s the twin of Keith’s own. The sound of Shiro sleeping is conspicuous in its regularity, and right now it’s too irregular for him to be sleeping.Keith isn’t one to comment. They’re in the same boat.





	Only You

**Author's Note:**

> written for [Marissa](https://twitter.com/myssiesart), happy late Sheithlentines! One of your requests was Keith and Shiro comforting each other, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> endless thanks to Spooky for holding my hand and cheerleading like a champ <3

Idling through space in their self-imposed night, the Black Lion is almost silent and almost still, but Keith can feel the hum of it in his bones, like breathing. Like his pulse.

Louder is the breathing across the narrow quarters in the Lion’s belly. The occasional sniff, the occasional cough, and the all too frequent sound of Shiro shifting and turning on the thin cot that’s the twin of Keith’s own. The sound of Shiro sleeping is conspicuous in its regularity, and right now it’s too irregular for him to be sleeping.

Keith isn’t one to comment. They’re in the same boat.

Still, he hears Shiro roll over for the umpteenth time with a sigh through his nose, and remaining silent seems arbitrary.

“Need me to check under your mattress for a pea?”

Shiro’s response is as quick as Keith expects, a dry laugh and his voice just above a whisper. “Am I keeping you up?”

“Nope.” His brain is doing that just fine.

“I’m contemplating counting sheep.” Shiro drones, and falls silent for a moment. “Lance swears by warm milk. He says it knocks him out.”

Keith wrinkles his nose. “I’d rather be tired.”

“Me too.”

On the floor between them, the wolf lets out a ragged snore, and they snort in unison.

Shiro asks, “What’s his secret?”

Keith puffs out his cheeks and exhales, blinking in the dark. “I don’t know. Think less.”

“Sure.” Shiro clears his throat, and shifts again, skin on fabric. “That’d be nice.”

 

\--

 

“I’ve been scanning for a planet with a breathable atmosphere.” Pidge pops up on a viewscreen in the Black Lion’s cockpit, her chin propped on one fist and the other moving like clockwork on buttons out of sight. “If we can spare a rest day, I don’t think we should push the Lions for too long at this point.”

Allura’s voice filters through the comms. “Probably wise. Any luck?”

“Zip. Zilch. Just nasty gasses and some skin melting temperatures.” Pidge sighs. “I don’t know about you guys, but if we’re making planetfall I could use some fresh air.”

Lance groans. “I think my knees are seizing up. I think my air supply is thirty percent fart.”

Keith ignores him. “Keep scanning, Pidge. Hunk, can you expand the radius?”

“On it.”

Shiro straightens up where his hip is cocked against the pilot’s chair. “Good job, guys.”

The cockpit is filled with a responding chorus of _thanks, Shiro_.

Blooming warmth swirls and settles in Keith’s stomach, a small smile quirking on his lips. It feels right. The balancing sensation of a Shiro shaped space being filled beside him when Keith still so desperately feels the tug of needing to know that Shiro is present and whole. That he isn’t going anywhere. That he isn’t at risk of being taken _again_.

A weight drops on his shoulder, Shiro’s large hand enveloping it and squeezing, and Keith looks up, first at his fingers, and then at Shiro’s face where he’s smiling in return, eyes soft.

He longs to cover it with his own, but he’s unsure if he’d have the will to let it go again.

Instead he holds his gaze, smiles a little broader, and echoes, “Thanks, Shiro.”

 

\--

 

There are two sets of breathing from across the room, both originating from Shiro’s bed.

Keith jams his bent arm under his flimsy pillow and rolls over.

“Did you steal my wolf?”

“He stole me.” Shiro’s voice comes out muffled and monotone. “Take it up with him.”

Keith props himself up on an elbow and peers into the dim, his Galra eyes easily picking out the shape of Shiro partially hidden behind a mass of fur that stretches the length of his bed, arm coiled around the wolf’s neck, and face buried deep in his thick scruff.

It takes him a moment to tear his eyes from the vulnerable scene, throat thick and chest tight, and when he lays back down he pulls his grey blanket up to his nose and breathes hot into his fist, soundlessly mouthing, “Good boy.”

 

\--

 

“Bingo!”

Keith’s head whips up at Pidge’s excited shout. “What? Bingo what?”

“We’ve got a planet! A nice blue one, too. Homey.”

Shiro leans forward and swipes a screen to bring up Pidge’s scans. “How far out?”

“Less than a quintant with smooth sailing. Probably less than a day.”

“Is there any wood in here?” Hunk asks. “Quick, someone knock on wood.”

Pidge crows, “Romelle, knock on Lance’s head.”

“ _Hey_. Ow!”

“I’m lost,” Allura says, and Keith laughs under his breath.

“Adjust course, everyone,” he orders. “Start thinking about how you want to spend your day off.”

 

\--

 

“Keith?”

It’s been hours since Keith lowered himself into bed and started pretending he could sleep, but he’s past being surprised by Shiro’s voice piercing the silence.

“Mm?”

Shiro’s quiet for a long moment, and Keith opens his eyes and tilts his head to wait.

“Have you told anyone?” he finally asks, hesitancy in his tone. “About where I was. That I—”

Keith neither needs or wants Shiro to choke out the word _died_ again, and jams himself into the gap left where he pauses.

“No.” Keith’s heart lurches. “Have you?”

“No.” Shiro whispers, quickly adding, “I don’t want you to think you can’t. If you need to talk about it with someone.”

An urgent voice in Keith’s head tells him to stand. To pull himself out of bed and walk three barefooted steps across the void between them. To slot himself beside Shiro’s body and hold his head to his chest and fill his arms with everything he’s justifiably terrified of losing.

But he doesn’t. He just swallows and coils his hands into empty fists, and breathes, “It’s private. I don’t want them treating you differently.”

Shiro exhales. “Like a dead man.”

A punch to the jaw would hurt less. Keith has enough comparisons to go by. None of them ever lanced down his sternum and left a stinging fissure in his ribcage.

It feels inadequate even as it leaves his lips, but he can’t neglect to ask. Shiro would.

“Do you need to talk about it?”

“No.”

Polite dismissal sits easier than a lie. Even referring to the weather as _fine_ sounds contrived. Either of them using it in regard to their respective states of mind would be meaningless. Shiro isn’t obliged to confide to Keith all the things that still chafe inside. Keith doesn’t want him to claw old wounds open and dig out the accumulated shrapnel for his gratification.

“Shiro.” He pulls his knees toward his chest, eyes on Shiro where he’s motionless on his back. “You’re the only person here I’d want to talk about it with.”

He sees Shiro’s chest rise and fall, and he breathes, “Me too. Only you.”

Keith wishes he’d gone to him. “I’ll be right here.”

 

\--

 

He’s drifting in the shallow grey before sleep when he feels his blanket lift and his bed dip.

Shiro’s foot skims Keith’s ankle and his arm nudges between his shoulder blades, and without hesitation Keith tips onto his back and wriggles as close to the wall as he can to accommodate Shiro as he lays beside him.

Shiro twitches the blanket back into place, and Keith folds his fingers into the edge of it over his own chest as Shiro’s head settles on his pillow.

Keith nudges gently at Shiro’s arm where it’s flush with his own, and manages through some miracle to keep his breathing even. “You okay?”

Shiro nudges back, and reaches up to carefully free a stray lock of Keith’s hair where it’s trapped beneath his welcome head. “Can I stay?”

“Yes.” It’s instant, an answer that’s always existed, poised at the roof of Keith’s mouth. “Yeah, of course.”

It’s like Shiro’s body deflates, muscles relaxing as a long breath leaves him, and his lowered voice sounds so loud this close. “Do you have enough room?”

It’s a tight fit with the two of them on their backs, but Keith feels anything but caged. A Key turning in a lock, and hinges creaking with disuse.

Keith extends his hand between them, finds Shiro’s wrist where it rests on his stomach and follows it down to cover his broad palm. Shiro’s fingers immediately bend to tangle with his own, and he grips tight, giving Keith the courage to do the same.

“Try to sleep,” he whispers, thumb brushing back and forth, Shiro’s pulse beating beneath his skin.

 

\--

 

Going to sleep next to Shiro pales in comparison to waking up with his chest pressed to Keith’s back and his firm arm carelessly draped across his waist.

Keith slept about as well as ever, unfamiliar with a bed shared, but he feels rested. Eyes clear as he opens them to the grey wall of his cot, letting them roam down to Shiro’s hand where it’s splayed itself over Keith’s heart in the night.

Keith’s hesitant to wake him, but he can’t resist reaching up and ghosting his fingers over the field of hairs that stand to attention like good little soldiers. He purses his lips, blows a cool stream of air across Shiro’s forearm and smiles at the way his skin breaks out in goosebumps.

He inhales to blow again, and before he can release it, he feels a responding stream of air across the back of his neck, ruffling his hair where it’s loosely pooled.

Keith’s breath hitches in a gasp, Shiro’s hand curling and bunching in his shirt, and a deep hum of laughter rumbling directly into his back.

He feels Shiro lean in, followed by the press of warm skin just above his collar. Not a kiss, but the unmistakable brush dry lips passing quickly, and the cool tip of his nose behind his ear.

“Good morning.” Shiro’s voice is croaky and rich, the same as it is every morning, and so entirely foreign from a bare inch away.

Keith dares to circle his fingers around Shiro’s wrist, and tips his head back when he doesn’t retreat. “Morning.”

Shiro’s lips curve upward against his neck. “I think your bed’s comfier than mine.”

Keith snorts, giving in to a helpless smile. “No, it’s not.”

“Must be you, then.”

Keith squeezes his eyes shut, and holds his breath. “Shiro.”

“Keith.” He draws his name out, a teasing edge to it, a hint of heat like the breath on his neck. “Planetfall today. Spend the day with me.”

There’s safety in not having to meet Shiro’s eye while his heart is thundering in his chest and he can feel sweat forming on his palms, but everything with Shiro feels safe. He lifts Shiro’s arm only far enough to roll onto his back, and Keith can almost imagine the bed swaying as his gaze lands on Shiro’s guileless, pillow creased face and his haphazard hair.

“Okay.” Keith bites the inside of his lip. “What do you want to do?”

“I dunno.” Shiro smiles, long lashes low. “Relax?”

Keith raises an eyebrow, tone droll. “What’s that?”

Shiro shrugs, and smooths his hand across Keith’s collarbone. “You’re asking the wrong guy. Might as well figure it out together, though.”

Together. _Yes_.

“Might as well.”

 

\--

 

It’s mercifully day when they land, some time in the morning, a single yellow sun shining in a strikingly blue sky. The familiarity isn’t lost on Keith, nor the strangely uniform autumnal hue of the flora surrounding them. A leafy palette of desert oranges and reds.

The two of them peel off from the group, leaving Pidge and Hunk fiddling with the Lions with the assistance of a knowingly grinning Krolia, insisting in their politely rude way that Shiro and Keith are unlikely to be much help anyway.

The wolf barrels ahead of them into a sparse forest of white trunked trees, and Keith could almost join him for how incredible it feels to stretch his legs and fill his lungs.

He would if it didn’t mean leaving Shiro’s side. Dizzy and bold, Keith clasps his hand where it swings, and Shiro steps closer, elbows bumping as they walk.

Keith looks down and watches their fingers where they perfectly slot together, committing it to memory. When he glances up, Shiro’s doing the same. Smiling with a splash of colour across his cheeks like muddled berries.

Keith squeezes, and asks, “Feeling relaxed yet?”

Shiro laughs, the bright flash of his teeth, and wrinkles creasing his eyes. “I think I might be, yeah.”

They find the wolf a short walk later in a clearing surrounded by sunflower sized leaves that throw dappled shadows from above and blanket the ground beneath. It’s only when they stop and lower themselves between the sprawling roots of a towering tree that Keith notices butter yellow flowers poking up through the leaf litter in the tens of thousands.

Keith breaks one off at the stem, a little smaller than his palm and scented like cut grass, and spins it between his fingers as Shiro sprawls on his back and casually hooks a hand behind Keith’s bent knee.

He plucks a petal off, a satisfying little snap as it pulls away intact, and lets it flutter to the ground. He plucks another, and another, until half the flower’s gone like a sun peeking over the horizon.

Shiro’s hand glides down his calf and back up, and he sing-songs, “He loves me, he loves me not.”

Keith hums and pulls another petal, three words rising up his throat, so close to the three he wants to say. “He loves me.”

Shiro’s hand falls away and he rises up on his elbow, his chest leaning heavily into Keith’s thigh as he whispers, “He loves you.”

Keith freezes, attention shifting to Shiro where he’s gazing up at him, haloed by silver hair and mouth slightly parted.

“I do, Keith. I love you.”

The flower drops, replaced by Shiro’s chin as Keith cups it in his hand and tilts it upward, watching Shiro’s eyes flutter closed with a small sigh as Keith bends down and meets his mouth in a kiss. It’s off centre, hard and lingering and awkwardly angled, and Keith breathes in sharply through his nose and straightens his legs out long, sinking to his side to deepen it.

He urges Shiro onto his back, hovers above him with a fist on the spongey ground beside his head, chirping against his lips when he feels Shiro’s hand land at his waist and travel up his ribs.

There’s a gridlock of joy building up inside Keith that wants to escape through his mouth in clumsy words or laughter or hurried breaths. Shiro catches his lower lip between his own, noses bumping, and Keith’s brain catches up with his body like thunder chasing lightning.

“I love you.”

 

\--

 

Keith wakes with a heavy head in his lap and the wolf’s wet nose nudging at his temple.

The sun’s still up, but traveling lower in the sky. Keith spares a scratch for the wolf’s chin, then reaches down and pushes Shiro’s bangs back from his drowsing forehead.

“You awake?”

Shiro smiles without opening his eyes. “Mhm.”

Keith sits up and traces his thumb across Shiro’s faintly lined brow. “How are you feeling?”

“Hungry.” One eye opens, and Shiro plucks Keith’s hand from his head, moving it to his mouth to lay a kiss on his knuckles. “Happy. _Rested_.”

 

\--

 

That night Keith brushes his teeth and returns to their quarters to Shiro already in his bed.

Home ceased to have any set location to Keith a long time ago. Its portable walls include his mom now, a piece of family he never thought he’d get the chance to experience. But for longer, it’s been Shiro. Not a destination to return to, but a man slipping in and out of his trajectory and always returning. Shiro his hearth. Shiro where his shoes come off and his guard lets down and a nebulous warmth suffuses him.

He walks to his bed without hesitation, urges Shiro over and dips for a minty, playful kiss before draping himself over Shiro’s chest and tangling their legs.

Shiro’s hand comes to rest beneath Keith’s shirt in the small of his back, holding him close to his swelling and falling body as their breaths pass in and out of sync in the night.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading <3
> 
> on twitter at [tinkers_cuss](https://twitter.com/tinkers_cuss)


End file.
